Two minutes later, Adam eagerly agrees to a drink. And he’s free tonight.
Thirty minutes later, I’m out the door, driving to Johnstown.
It’s not the first time my Magic 8 ball’s told me to do something I didn’t particularly want to do.
But it’s the first time I seriously considering telling the damn thing to go to hell.
Kelly Byrne’s Ex List—Version Seven
Jack Chance
Joey Russo
Chad Morrister
Doug Porter
Stephen Hill
Adam Bartley: Finally. A good ex. A great ex. We totally hit it off, talked for hours. Me. My ex. His new boyfriend…
Colin Austin
December 21, Thursday Evening
This was my plan: drinks with Adam at five, home by seven. At the latest.
Even with Mark’s unpredictable work schedule lately, I can’t imagine him leaving the restaurant during the dinner rush. I figured I’d beat him home, pour a glass of wine, and, depending how my meeting with Adam went, figure out what to tell him.
Now, if you’re thinking, That’s a horrible plan, you’d be right.
It wasn’t a great plan to start with, but I could have made it work if I’d stuck with it, which…I didn’t.
So now it’s ten o’clock, and despite the fact that I wished on every possible power in the universe on my drive home that Mark would still be at work when I pull up to my house, nobody was listening.
I do a casual drive-by around to the front of Mark’s house before pulling into my own garage, and his truck’s there.
Okay, but maybe it’s not such a bad thing. It’s not like I have any missed calls or texts from him. Maybe I wore him out from our sexcapades earlier, and he went straight to bed. Maybe…
I walk into my dark kitchen and let out a little squeak at the male figure leaning against my counter, drinking a glass of water.
“Creepy much?” I ask, putting a hand over my pounding heart as I drop my purse and flick on the lights.
Mark takes a sip of water, but says nothing. He looks me over, taking in my wedge boots, tight jeans, and going-out shirt.
His eyes flick up to mine. “Good night?”
I swallow. “It was interesting. How was work?”
I really want that wine, but instead I go to the cabinet and pull out a water glass, hoping the way I fill it from the pitcher in the fridge looks casual and not guilty.
“Adam or Colin?”
I fumble the pitcher. “Um.”
Mark sets his glass aside, lays the heels of his hands on the counter, and waits.
I close the fridge and face him. “How did you know?”